"I wasn't the prettiest girl you ever saw, I wasn't the best actress, and I certainly wasn't the finest singer. But, with a bit of courage and a dash of self-discipline, a small talent can go a long, long way," writes Kitty Carlisle Hart at the end of her book, "Kitty: An Autobiography."
Perhaps Ms. Hart is being a bit modest about her stage and film abilities, and her physical self, but the truth remains that her successful use of her talent has taken her a long way.
Currently Chairperson Emeritus of the New York State Council on the Arts, Ms. Hart served as Chairperson of the council from 1976 to 1996. She was awarded the National Medal of Arts from President George Bush in 1991. Her advocacy on behalf of women led to her appointment as Chair of the Statewide Conference on Women and, soon after, given the role of Special Consultant on Women's Opportunities to Governor Nelson Rockefeller. She has served on numerous boards, been made honorary trustee of numerous arts organizations, holds an Honorary Doctorate of Music degree, and has a theatre named after her in Albany. Of course, she's also known for her roles on Broadway (most recently in the 1984 revival of "On Your Toes"); in opera (Lucretia in "The Rape of Lucretia," and, in her Met Opera debut, Prince Orlofsky in "Die Fledermaus"); on film ("A Night at the Opera," two films with Bing Crosby, and, more recently, "Six Degrees of Separation" and "Radio Days"); on TV (15 years on "To Tell the Truth); and for being married to the legendary playwright-director Moss Hart.
So, with good reason, the League of Professional Theatre Women honored the actress-singer and arts advocate with an invitation to be part of its ongoing series of oral histories of women in theatre that's being produced by the league, and videotaped by the Theatre and Film on Tape Archive at the N.Y. Public Library for the Performing Arts at Lincoln Center. (The oral history project was conceived out of the need for more knowledge and documentation of women who helped build the American theatre. Past participants have included Jane Alexander, Zoe Caldwell, Uta Hagen, Zelda Fichandler, and the late Rosetta LeNoire and Jean Dalrymple.)
The event, which was free and open to the public, took place this past March at the Bruno Walter Auditorium at the library. It was moderated by theatre critic and TV commentator Pia Lindstrom, also a league member, whose questions enabled the nonagenarian Ms. Hart to talk about her career from its beginnings, highlighting her relationships with her well-known friends.
Born Catherine Conn in New Orleans, she came to New York with her mother when her father, a doctor, passed away. Her mother only wanted the best for her daughter, and Kitty accepted anything that her mother wanted her to do. She attended the Dalton School ("I'm the oldest living Dalton alumni," claims Ms. Hart), and then she and her mother went to Europe. "Everybody was flinging themselves into the sea like lemmings in an effort to get to Paris, and we followed the crowd," she adds.
"We didn't have any money," Ms. Hart tells the audience. "We made the rounds to various schools, which were full, and we were turned down. But my mother was resourceful. She went to the counsel general in Lausanne, and she rather fascinated him because she was very fascinating. She wasn't a beauty, but she had a ravishing smile, an enormous nature. He took me back to one of the schools that had turned me down, and I got in."
They lived and traveled in Europe for a reason: "My mother was trying to push me up into society, and she wanted to make a brilliant marriage for me," Ms. Hart admits. "She was looking for the key to European society…. I came out in Rome, and I came out in Paris. And, so, I did well and she did well. We had a nice apartment. She was playing the market like everybody else in those days. So we had more money, we got up in the world, and we got up in society."
But they lost whatever money they did have in the stock market crash of 1929.
"My mother was a woman of lightning decisions. She came to me the next day and said, 'You're not the prettiest girl I ever saw, you're not the best singer I ever heard, and you're certainly not the best actress I ever hoped to see. If we put them all together, we'll find a husband we're looking for—on the stage!"
The thought of going on stage never even entered Kitty's mind, but her mother enrolled her at the Royal Academy of Dramatic Arts in London. It's there that she got hooked. "Standing on stage was as if the Lord had blessed me. I was like a goldfish put back in his bowl. This was my element. This was where I wanted to live."
The money eventually ran out, and mother and daughter had to return to New York. Kitty Carlisle, as she was now known, began auditioning and got her first job in a show that went on tour titled "Rio Rita," where she played Rita. "The show girls would all stand around and I'd hear them say, 'Why the hell did they give her the job?' Well, I don't know why they did either. But it was wonderful training, and I was on stage all day long for eight months."
"Champagne Sec," and her first role on Broadway, came along next. An Americanized version of "Die Fledermaus," Kitty Carlisle played Prince Orlofsky. "I had good legs," Ms. Hart shares. "It's the last to go!"
Kitty and her mother then traveled to California, where she won the role in "A Night at the Opera" with the Marx Brothers. "But I wasn't very successful in Hollywood," Ms. Hart admits. "In fact, after 'A Night at the Opera,' which was my claim to fame with my children and their friends, they paid me off and sent me home. I cried all the way home on the train."
It was on the set of "A Night at the Opera" where Kitty first met Moss Hart. He and Cole Porter were looking for a leading lady for their new musical, "Jubilee." George S. Kaufman, the director of "A Night at the Opera," recommended Kitty Carlisle. She auditioned for them, but did not get the role. It wasn't until nine years later that she met up with him again, at a party given by Lillian Hellman, who was a friend of Kitty's because they both hailed from New Orleans. Up until then, Kitty was keeping herself busy working while supporting her mother.
Kitty Carlisle approached Moss Hart at the party, hoping he would remember that she had auditioned for him years earlier. One thing led to another, and they were married eight months later.
They spent their honeymoon in Bucks County (Pa.), where Moss Hart had a house, playing in "The Man Who Came to Dinner" at the Bucks County Playhouse. "Moss played the man. I played the secretary. I was very good. But when I played the actress the next year, I was very bad," confesses Ms. Hart.
Shortly after, she and Moss went back to California. It was there that her new husband helped her conquer feelings of social insecurity with which she had always been plagued. "The contract writers lived on the other side of Wilshire Blvd., not near the big houses and the big people who ran the studios. But there were some writers who were considered good enough to be with the big guys, and Moss was one of them," Ms. Hart states. "Sam Behrman was one, George Kaufman was one. There were others, but not many. So, suddenly I'm staying with the Gershwins, I'm staying with this one and that one, and I'm having a ball. Except that the first time I went to a big party in Hollywood—we were staying with Otto Preminger—Moss said to me the night before, 'You know, you have this thing about Hollywood.' And I said, 'Yes, I do, with good reason.' Then he said, 'I want to tell you something. You have worn a cloak around you all your life that says Kitty Carlisle, and underneath that cloak is a very nice girl. Why don't you let people see it?' Then he said, 'Tomorrow night we're going to a big party, and I'm not going to stay with you because we'll have nothing to tell each other when we get home. We'd have heard the same conversations. So I'm going to leave you at the door!' And he did. And for the first 10 minutes, I went nowhere. I didn't know what to do with myself. Then, little by little, I began to swim along, and people were perfectly pleasant, and I had a very good time."
Moss Hart brought out the best in his wife, helping her bring out her own personality, and giving her confidence. Yet, Hart himself went through a period of depression. He had agreed to a five-picture deal and couldn't fulfill it. (His agent, Irving Lazar, got him out of the contract.) Ms. Hart spoke about Moss' best-selling autobiography, "Act One," and how she encouraged him to keep with it when he became discouraged, feeling that he should be writing another play instead.
Ms. Hart's stint as a panelist on "To Tell the Truth" lasted for 15 years. "It was so easy because we didn't have to learn anything. In the beginning, we got dressed up in evening clothes, got to the theatre at 8 pm, did the show, and we were out by 8:30, so I could join Moss at the theatre or at a dinner party. It was perfect."
The moderator asked about "My Fair Lady," which Moss Hart directed. Ms. Hart recalled how nervous Moss was, as well as Alan Jay Lerner and Frederick Loewe. "It was opening night, and we're all standing in the back of the orchestra because Moss, Alan, and Fritz couldn't sit down. You know, Cole Porter sat down on his opening nights. And he not only sat down, but had an entourage of people and was saluting everyone and taking bows. Well, these birds couldn't do it." She mentioned how Moss had to "paste the part" onto Julie Andrews. "I could hear Moss' inflections in every line she spoke for the first 10 days," Ms. Hart recalls. "And then, she made it her own, and she was wonderful."
She talked about the problems they had with "Camelot," which was trying out in Toronto and ran four-and-one-half hours at the first public performance. It was at this time that Moss had a heart attack. He asked "Camelot" 's author, Alan Jay Lerner, to take over the direction of the show, rather than bring in a new director. Lerner did his best, but it opened on Broadway to mixed reviews and disappointing business. After Moss got well, he returned to work on the show, and his changes finally made "Camelot" into a box office success. Then he and Kitty bought a house in Palm Springs so that he could rest more easily. Unfortunately, he didn't make it. They were only in their new home for six weeks when he died.
That was in 1961. Kitty Carlisle Hart had to begin her life again, with her children. Her mother, by the way, was still living with her and, according to Ms. Hart, was "not very interfering, but was still ordering things around." At the same time, she was quick to defend her: "She was good, and she did me a great deal of good. She gave me discipline."
Asked about how she feels about government money to the arts: "It's never enough. This country is not very good to its artists." She then proceeded to talk about the problem she's facing with today's copyright legislation. "If you're Mr. Rockefeller, you can own a building, and you can give it to your descendants. But, if you own [an intellectual] property in the theatre, you can only get copyright protection for 50 years [after the death of the author]. Now they're extending it for another 25, but last night I learned that they may not allow it. It's gone to the Supreme Court, which doesn't understand anything about the arts."
Ms. Lindstrom asked if the discipline that her mother instilled in her made her go out to find another path, which happened to be arts advocacy.
Ms. Hart replied, "After Moss died, I did everything that came along. Whatever comes, take it, because you never know where your path is going to lead you."
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Kitty Carlisle Hart now tours with her one-woman show, "Life Upon the Wicked Stage," a revue of songs by Kern, Gershwin, Porter, Rodgers, and Berlin, among others. "I'm the only one left who not only knew them, and sang with them at the piano, but who can still sing. I'm 91 years old and I can still sing these songs. I feel it is my duty to do this show."